


walking that tightrope

by chxrrywhine



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: (fuck u COVID), (if COVID didn't happen), (no beta we die like buck is almost going to in Buck Begins), Abby is complicated, Eddie is overprotective, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Mild Angst, Pre-Slash, Realization of Feelings, Set in between S3 and S4, but hey aren't we all?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29446947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chxrrywhine/pseuds/chxrrywhine
Summary: 'After some time, Abby laughs lightly, apropos of nothing. She stirs her spoon around in her teacup, the rim of the metal clinking against the wall of the porcelain. She looks at him over her glasses. "You don't like me very much, do you?""I don't know you," he says automatically.Abby cocks an eyebrow and laughs again. She shakes her head. "That's not what I asked you."'or; what happens when eddie and abby meet at a coffeeshop in el paso? feelings and realizations, apparently.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 178





	walking that tightrope

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day, my loves! I don't usually do this, but this fic requires a bit of a disclaimer.
> 
> For clarification: I don't hate Abby. I don't hate Abby/Buck. I don't resent her for "standing in the way of my ship" or for any other reason people usually hate female characters because 1) Eddie didn't even know Buck when he and Abby were together, and 2) I'm all about the vibes. One of my favorite concepts in any kind of story is what happens when the current and former lovers meet up. During the S3 finale, you could practically see the thoughts on Eddie's face and the frustration in his voice when he connected Buck's reaction to who Abby was, and I really wanted to explore that a little.
> 
> Second disclaimer: I've gotten about ten hours of sleep over the past few days, so. Bear that in mind, haha.
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy <3

"Abby?" 

At first, Eddie thinks his mind is playing tricks on him when he sees her out the corner of his eye. Blonde hair and glasses aren't exactly a rare combination and what are the odds of seeing Abby fucking Clarke sitting in his favorite coffeeshop in El Paso? They're like, zero to none. Beyond that, if possible. But then she turns around, brow crinkling as she takes him in, and oh fuck, it is her.

"Yes?"

It takes Eddie's brain a minute to reboot; by the time it does, she's looking at him like she's not sure whether she should be concerned or cautious.

"Sorry, never mind. I thought you were..." His voice trails off. What is he supposed to say? He thought she was someone else? He called her by her name. He sticks out a hand instead. "Eddie Diaz."

Her eyes narrow as she takes him in. Last time they saw each other, she was banged up and frantic, and he was decked out in his gear, exhausted and annoyed beyond belief. They never got more than a few seconds glance at each other but it was clearly long enough for her to be able to recognize him. Abby's mouth parts in a little "o".

"I know you," she says slowly, recognition dawning. She shakes his hand. "You're from the 118. LAFD. You helped rescue my fiancé when the train crashed. Well, husband, now," she says after a beat.

“Yeah.” Eddie forces a smile. "How is he doing?"

"He's doing great, thanks. Full recovery just like the paramedics said." She looks around the coffeeshop like she's seeing it for the first time and frowns. "What the hell are you doing all the way out here?"

“Visiting my family. Though I could ask you the same."

If he’s honest, he doesn't really care. He doesn’t care about Abby, or why she’s sitting in his coffeeshop because if it were up to him, he'd be anywhere but here having this conversation. But since this is the only place he can get his favorite specialty blend and he told Buck he’d buy him some the next time he was in town, that means he’s stuck here. All because he opened his big mouth.

"I have a seminar, actually,” she replies. “My step-daughter hauled me out here for some entrepreneurial lecture, or something." Abby shrugs. "I don't know the first thing about it but she seems to be enjoying it, so, what the hell, right? Listen, it’s packed in here, do you want to have a seat while you wait?”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say to that, but he doesn’t have a good reason for saying no, so he nods his thanks and takes a seat. The coffeeshop is inordinately packed for a Thursday afternoon, the line moving at a snail’s pace. Maybe he needs to find a new favorite coffee.

After some time, the silence not quite awkward but not quite comfortable either, Abby laughs lightly, apropos of nothing. She stirs her spoon around in her teacup, the rim of the metal clinking against the wall of the porcelain and looks at him over her glasses. "You don't like me very much, do you?"

"I don't know you," he says automatically.

It seems like the right thing to say even though he's heard enough about Abby Clark to write a dissertation on the subject, but she’s not wrong—he doesn’t like her, even though he knows his feelings are irrational. He didn’t know either Buck or Abby when that whole soap opera saga was going on and he only met Buck at the tail end of things, but it was long enough to know that he didn’t care for her at all. All those nights Buck spent after shift in the locker room, waxing poetic about her spirit and her smile. All the pain Eddie used to see hidden behind his eyes whenever he talked about how she'd up and left him with hardly a single word after the fact. And it’s not _fair_ , he knows that. It’s not fair to base his opinions on her solely on what he’s heard from Buck, but no one ever said he wasn’t loyal. 

Still, it’s not like he can tell _her_ that. He may not like her but he’s not _rude_.

But Abby cocks an eyebrow and laughs again. She shakes her head. "That's not what I asked you."

She’s not letting him get away with this. Buck said she was sharp, turns out he was right about that.

He clears his throat. "Look, I don't think this is appropriate. What happened between you and Buck is none of my business.”

“And yet.” She seems amused, of all things, God help him. "Come on, we're adults. We can talk about our feelings without it being a big deal."

And that just...

Fuck it, whatever.

“Alright, fine. You asked." He takes a deep breath. "No, I don’t like you. I don't like the way you left Buck. I don’t like the way he put his life on hold for a year waiting for you to return—and trust me, I know most of that’s on him—but I don't like that you didn’t even have the decency to tell him you weren’t coming back for him."

For months, these feelings have been roiling around inside of him, haunting his thoughts when he least expects them. Most days, Eddie's able to ignore them. Most days, he’s able to put aside the choking fear and raw anger he'd felt upon seeing Buck risk his life for a woman who didn’t even want him, only really thinking about it on long, sleepless nights, but now that he's started, Eddie can’t seem to stop.

"And since we’re on the topic,” he continues, “I _really_ don’t like how you went to _him_ to get your fiancé out of the train. Because you knew he was reckless enough to do what it took to get him out, to save as many lives as he could.” He pauses, swallows. “Because you knew he loved you enough, after everything, to do what it took. For you. Always for you. So, no, Abby, I don't like you. I know it’s none of my business, but… you did ask.”

“I did ask,” Abby says with a nod. She doesn’t look angry though, only thoughtful. 

She blows on a spoonful of tea and casts her gaze out the window. A stream of people pass by, so caught up in their own little worlds they're completely oblivious to the conversation unfolding not two feet away from them.

“It was always complicated with Buck,” Abby says after a minute. “You didn’t know him before. Self-diagnosed sex addict Buck.” She shakes her head with a rueful laugh. “We took it so slow, in the beginning. Glacier slow, in fact, but... I don’t know. It was special. Even in all its complications, it was special. We made each other better, and I will always love him for that. I will always be thankful to him for that. But you’re right on at least one count—I was wrong for leaving him the way I did. I was wrong for leaving him with this, this _hope_ that I would come back the same way I was when I left." She looks at him, eyes soft and sad. “But I’m not sorry for asking him to save Sam. You may think I asked him because I knew he was in love with me, and hell, I don’t know Eddie, maybe somewhere in my panic-ridden brain, I did. You know as well as I do what happens when you’re under that kind of mental strain. But I also asked him because I knew I could trust him with the love of my life. Whether he loved me or hated me, I knew I could trust Buck, regardless how he felt about me.” She sighs. “That’s why I asked him, and that’s the truth. Take it or leave it.” 

He does believe her, is the thing, and even he has to admit a grudging respect for the way she’s willing to cleave herself open and relive one the worst moments of her life for this conversation. 

Still…

“He put his life in danger for you.”

Of all the things, that's the one that sticks out to him the most. When Buck suggested going outside the train to make sure both the girl and Sam were safe, Eddie clenched his jaw and didn't say a damn thing about it. When you’re in the field, you can’t let things like frustration and anger and fear take control of you, regardless of how intensely you feel them. But then they were alone, it was another story—

_You’re reckless, Buck! You don’t think before you take risks. What was I supposed to tell Chris if something happened to you, huh? What was I supposed to do if I lost you?_

_That’s not fair. What was I supposed to do, Eddie? It was_ Abby _._

_Yeah, trust me, I fucking know. It’s always about Abby._

—It'd been one of the worst fights of their relationship so far, and considering all the bullshit that came with the lawsuit, that was saying a lot. 

That, of all her crimes, is the one Eddie has the most trouble forgiving, but even now, he can't tell whether he's more angry with her at inspiring that kind of devotion, or whether he's more angry at Buck for the way he let that devotion dictate his life.

But Abby sighs, her mouth turning down in a frown. “I know," she says, quietly, and there's nothing more to say after that. She doesn’t mention the fact that his life was already in danger, or the fact that it’s in danger every time Buck clocks in for his shift; it’s different and they both know it.

They fall quiet for a few minutes, letting the sounds of the atmosphere stir between them. Somewhere in the back of the coffeeshop, a steamed milk machine whirs.

Eddie clears his throat again. “Like I said, it’s none of my business. You two talked it out, so who am I to judge?”

“You’re someone who loves him,” she says simply. “That’s enough.”

Yeah, he supposes it is.

Only now that he's poured out his feelings after months and months of drowning in them, Eddie feels… stupid. Or maybe not stupid, perhaps that's not the word. Maybe he just feels ashamed. Ashamed that it's been almost a year since the train and he's still just as bothered as he was when everything happened. Ashamed that he's spilled his guts to the woman he’s been silently resenting instead of to his best friend. 

He’s a fucking disaster. And _maybe_ he came off a little harsher than he intended.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a moment. “I shouldn’t have—”

Abby cuts him off with a snort. “Oh, please, don’t be. Like I said, we’re adults, it's fine. It's not like you were wrong. Maybe now you and I can move on. I was serious when I told Buck I wanted to be in his life in whatever capacity. And if you’re a part of his life, that means we should be amicable at best.” Abby makes a noise in the back of her throat. “I do have one question, though.”

“Go for it.”

“I mean. I get why you hate me—”

“I never said I _hated_ you.”

“Semantics. But it seemed to work out pretty well for you in the end.” She shrugs. “I guess I just don’t understand why you gave it much more thought after I left.”

Eddie blinks at her. “I don’t understand.”

"Well, I mean, if Buck had still been with me then he wouldn’t be with you, that’s all. I swear I’m not trying to get in between you two or anything like that, I hope that’s not what it sounds like. I’m just curious.”

It takes Eddie’s brain a minute to catch up. _If Buck had still been with me then he wouldn’t be with you_. 

Oh. 

Eddie stares at her, properly shocked into near speechlessness for the first time since he can remember. "Buck and I aren't together."

"Yes, you are." Abby looks at him in confusion. "It's alright, he told me he was bisexual a few months into our relationship."

“No. I mean. Yes, but we're not... we aren't together."

Her frown deepens. "On Instagram…” She sighs and pulls out her phone. When she hands it to him, Buck’s instagram feed is on her screen. 

Eddie takes the phone from her. He thought he knew the kinds of things Buck posted on instagram—gym selfies, snapshots from family dinner, things like that—but looking at his feed now is like seeing Buck’s life through different eyes.

More than half of Buck’s posts from the year or so are of him and Christopher, or him and Eddie, or Eddie and Christopher. Halfway down the page is a picture of the three of them taken at Disneyland. Some lady and her wife had offered to take a picture of them if they returned the favor. It’s a nice photo—Christopher on Buck’s shoulders with his hands on his head, he and Buck standing so close they might as well be touching. He scrolls down some more, sees the picture from right before the tsunami, Buck and Chris smiling together. Keeps scrolling and stops on another picture, this one of himself and Chris. Eddie doesn't even remember when this one was taken, but the shot takes his breath away. He looks down at himself kneeling before Chris with his hand cupping his son’s face, Christopher’s head tipped back in bright laughter, with the evening sun slanted on them like something out of a painting.

The more he scrolls, the more photos like that he sees. Photos that scream love, and happiness, and intimacy.

They look like a family.

“Oh,” he says dumbly. 

Oh indeed.

He hands Abby her phone. She slides it into her pocket without a word, seeming to pick up on the fact that Eddie’s world has just been blown wide open. The line in the coffeeshop dwindled to nothing, the crowd of people dissipated until it’s just the two of them sitting there, but Eddie doesn’t get up. He feels frozen to the spot, immobilized by the knowledge that he’s been falling in love with his best friend and he can’t even pinpoint when it started. But then again, maybe the when doesn’t matter. Maybe all that matters is what he does now.

“You know,” Abby begins haltingly. “I know I don’t have to tell you this but Buck’s got a lot of love to give. And this might be overstepping, but as much as he loved me, I can see that he loves you and that little boy ten times more.” 

When Eddie looks back at her, there’s a small smile on her face. Their conversation is over; they’ll probably never talk like this again, if they talk at all, but she’s opened his eyes to something he didn’t even know was possible.

He rises to his feet. “I have to go.” 

She nods. “Of course. Goodbye, Eddie. It was really nice to meet you properly.”

“You too.”

He leaves the coffeeshop without buying his coffee (that'll be hell to explain later), fingers already pressing Buck’s speed dial.

“Hello?” Buck’s sleepy voice answers the phone. 

Eddie’s heart clenches in his chest. Damn, he’s been stupid. 

“Hey.”

Buck yawns. “Hey. How’s Texas?” There’s a pause. When he speaks again, his voice is more alert. “Wait, why are you calling me? Is Christopher okay? Are _you_ okay?”

“Yeah, Buck, everything’s… everything’s fine. It’s just been a hell of a day.” 

“Oh.” There’s the sound of the mattress squeaking in the background as Buck shifts to get more comfortable. “You want to talk about it?”

It’s something Buck always asks when they’re apart. When they’re face to face, Buck can see what he needs—can see when he demands his space or when he needs to be surrounded with the people he loves. Over the phone is different, the cues don't translate the same, so he always asks. Most times, Eddie says no. In fact, ninety-nine percent of the time, Eddie says no. But maybe… Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to talk about this.

Eddie thinks back to those pictures on Buck’s instagram, about the story they tell to anyone who doesn’t know them, and decides talking might not be the worst thing.

He clears his throat. “Yeah, actually. But not right now. Maybe when I get back.”

There’s a pregnant pause in which Eddie can picture the emotions flashing across Buck’s face: surprise, concern, wariness. But when he speaks again, he doesn’t sound either of those things. 

“You know I’m always here for you.”

“I know. I, um.” His heart is racing. Why is his heart racing? This is stupid. This is so _stupid_. Eddie clears his throat again—he's never cleared his throat so many times in his whole life—and shoves his hand into his pocket, like that's going to hide the way he keeps clenching and unclenching his fist. “I just... can’t wait to see you when I get back, is all I was going to say. Yeah.”

Someone shoot him.

There’s another pregnant pause, so long that Eddie considers hurling his phone into the nearest trashcan and walking into traffic. 

But then Buck says, all in a rush, “I miss you.” He huffs a laugh, more breath than laughter. “ I miss both of you.” 

Warmth trickles through Eddie’s veins, right down to his bones. “We miss you too. I miss you too,” he says after a moment’s hesitation.

His heartbeat thuds in his ears, so much faster than normal, but it’s less panic than it is… what? Excitement? Nervousness? Some unholy combination of the two? He doesn't know how to do this but he knows he needs to get off this phone before he starts composing sonnets or whatever the fuck people do when they fall in love. 

“Listen, I have to go pick up Chris from my parents' but I’ll call you tonight, okay?”

“Yeah.” Even with just that little word, Eddie can hear the smile in Buck's voice. “Tell Chris I said hi."

"Of course I will."

"And, um. Come home soon, okay?”

Home. It's not a word either of them use lightly.

Eddie swallows a few times until he trusts his voice. “Of course I will.”

He hangs up the phone; now that he knows what he feels, he knows he could easily spend all day talking to Buck. But he's got things to do, he's got people to see, and he'll be home soon enough. A small smile plays on his lips as he shoves his phone back in his pocket. Not even a half hour into one of the most life-changing revelations of his life and he’s already so far gone for Evan Buckley there’s simply no hope for him now. But as Eddie heads back down the street, off to pick up Chris from his parents house, he decides there are far worse positions to be in.

**Author's Note:**

> come chat with me @evcndiaz on tumblr!


End file.
